


Hero's Mask

by lightwavesurfer



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Team as Family, purely family so click away!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 22:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7482930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightwavesurfer/pseuds/lightwavesurfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe this reunion is a pointless thing after all.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha wonders what it means to have her mother back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hero's Mask

**Author's Note:**

> I never play Overwatch. In fact I'm planning to buy it on my birthday, which is still a month away. Sorry if there's OOC and what not. I just like to write :)

This is a conspiracy.

They tell her that her mother is dead. White lies, but it’s still a lie.

Fareeha sits through series of briefing: about the mission objectives, parameters, what to do and not what to do, the same things—they bore her but she keeps listening because she knows it’s important and Fareeha is a soldier with integrity. She’ll finish this mission swiftly.

“Ana, you’ll be the support for our mission today,” Fareeha’s ears perked at Morrison’s voice. The old soldier is looking at someone who’s sitting in the corner,

“What about Ziegler?”

Fareeha swears she can feel Morrison’s eyes on her for a couple of seconds. “I send her to another mission. The others also have their hands full with their own tasks, so you’ll be operating as the support alone. Is that okay with you?”

Ana waves her hand. “Nothing I can’t handle, Jack.”

Morrison nods. He focuses his attention to Fareeha. “What about you, Pharah? Anything you want to ask?”

Fareeha’s shoulders tense. Her expression is grim. Under normal circumstances, she’ll answer the question with a firm ‘yes’ and quickly discuss the potential strategy with Morrison. Fareeha touches her wrist and breathes.

“No, commander.”

She stands up from her chair, making her way to the door without acknowledging Morrison’s questioning look. When she walks pass Ana, she braves herself to glance at Ana’s figure but Ana is reading the mission’s brief (very seriously at that) and Fareeha feels her heart drop.

Maybe this reunion is a pointless thing after all.

*

It takes a while for Fareeha to accept that her mother has returned to her life.

For a few weeks, she struggles and wanders around, focusing more and more to the mission. She sticks to simple things too: goes over paperwork because she reasons that soldiers need to understand administrative works. She regularly visits Angela and feels incredibly calm and happy afterwards. She trains with Zarya and sometimes she plays with Hana in a heated match of Starcraft, which the young meka pilot gleefully teased that Fareeha is sucked in it.

But she can’t ignore Ana’s presence forever.

It’s disorienting, seeing her mother alive and yet she doesn’t know anything about her because Fareeha Amari, without a better word, _never knows_ a thing about Ana Amari. She hears stories; she searches the documents, digging old memories and what not. Fareeha should feel happy but she feels detached instead, coupled with slices of resentment. She often finds herself looking for Ana when she’s sitting in the mess hall, or she subtly—and fails—asks Reinhardt about Ana. Reinhardt is kind and he tells everything that Fareeha needs to know.

“You should talk to her,” he prompts one day, handing Fareeha a bar of chocolate he snatched from the cafeteria. “She’ll be very happy.”

“And what should I say?” Fareeha replies and shakes her head.

 “I’m sure the conversation will come smoothly,” he says with a soft tap on Fareeha’s shoulder, “you just have to try.”

*

She receives the report after that arduous mission that Ana Amari was shot and in critical condition.

Fareeha knows what horror smells like.

It’s suffocating, making her unable to move, that forces Fareeha to breathe through her mouth and grit her teeth in anxiety.

Morrison says Ana will make it through. Angela assures her that Ana is going to be fine because Ana is strong and has cheated death once. The others say the same things too.

Fareeha hasn’t taken off her armor as she waits outside the infirmary. Her lips purse to a tight line while her hands are clasping on her lap, Fareeha looks like she’s ready to jump at the slightest scare.

And she does jump when she feels Angela’s warm hand pressing on her cheek. Blinking away whatever disturbing images haunting her mind, Fareeha opens her mouth to ask.

“Commander Amari’s condition is stable now,” Angela answered with a gentle smile.

Fareeha releases the breath she doesn’t know she’s holding. She looks down, feebly avoiding Angela’s eyes because Angela definitely knows what Fareeha is currently thinking. They sit in silence, with Angela holding her hand and Fareeha trying hard to keep her composure.

“Are you okay?”

Fareeha stares at Angela, feeling hot pricks from behind her eyes. She laughs, but her voice is choked.

“Sadly, no.”

Angela squeezes Fareeha’s armored fingers. “You’re worried about Ana, aren’t you?”

Fareeha’s lips twitched to a rueful smirk, like she had lost a battle.

“I thought with everything I had learned, it would be easier,” Fareeha strains herself from crying. No. She won’t cry. _Not now._ “It is supposed to be easier.”

Angela shakes her head. From the frown on her brows and the tired circle under her eyes, Fareeha understands Angela also feels the same, if not worse. “It’s not your fault, you know.”

Fareeha sighs.

“It’s not, but I wish I can do better.”

*

Fareeha decides to visit the medical bay the next morning.

She waits outside Ana’s room for a good five minutes, partly mumbling to herself, thinking that this must be the worst idea she’s ever had, and almost deciding to run away. But Fareeha knows she can’t run, not when she’s this close, and finally steps inside.

Ana Amari is awake. Her white hair is loose around her shoulders. Her eyes, weary from the old age yet still looking wide and bright, are looking down at the hologram image of a very young Fareeha. Her wrinkled lips tug to a relaxed, unguarded smile. This is the Ana Amari Fareeha had lost for years.

“Fareeha,” Ana’s voice beckons her, “you can pull a chair and sit next to me.”

Fareeha obeys. It’s like her body is moving on her own. She pulls a chair and places it near the bed with a respectable distance between herself and Ana. Fareeha waits and looks at Ana, noticing the older woman is having unreadable expression on her face, and Fareeha thinks she _must say_ something because she hates awkward silence and all.

“How’s your wound?”

Fareeha winces. She sounds like she’s asking a colleague. Essentially, Ana Amari _is_ a colleague, but she’s more than that. She’s her—

“You don’t need to be too tense around me, Fareeha,” Ana’s voice is low and smooth, a familiar sound. “And yes, my wound is healing just fine. Ziegler knows what she’s doing.”

 _You’re not fine_ , Fareeha mulled as she looks at Ana’s blindfolded right eye, then down to Ana’s wrinkled and scarred forearms. Ana is a tough soldier, much tougher than Fareeha wishes she could ever be. Her eyes burn.

“Sorry,” Fareeha manages to croak as she looks away from Ana, “I wish I was more thorough. I didn’t know there are still hostiles around the area.”

Ana shrugs. “That’s battlefield. Always unpredictable and tends to screw you up when you’re not careful.”

“It can be avoided!” Fareeha jibed, sounding angry more to herself than Ana, “I was up there! I can see everything from above and yet I missed! It’s unforgivable and I might lose—”

Fareeha can’t say it. _She doesn’t want to say it._ Damn, she doesn’t even want to think about it.

Ana only looks at Fareeha, saying nothing to calm the deranged soldier.

Fareeha tries again.

“We might lose you…” her voice ended in a pained whisper like the idea of losing Ana creates a physical pain on her.

“But you still finished the mission and it ended in our favor. You saved a lot of people,” Fareeha twitches when Ana’s hand _finally_ finds hers, “you did great, Fareeha. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Fareeha’s eyes are burning more intensely and she doesn’t even know why. Ana has her hands on Fareeha’s cheeks as she pulls her daughter to look at her.

“I’m proud of you.”

A single teardrop rolls down Fareeha’s cheeks as relief stumbles out of her in the worst kind of way. And Fareeha can’t decide whether she wants to cry or laugh or jumping in joy, but she feels incredibly lighter. And again, her body is moving on her own, she leans to Ana and hugs her mother with everything she has.

Ana Amari, her mother.

It has a nice ring to it.

*

Today is like any other day. Another mission, another life to save, another day to spread justice, and losing is not an option.

Fareeha closes her eyes, lips muttering silent prayers to God above, as she readies herself to fly.

 _“Fareeha_.”

Her eyes open at the voice of Ana from the radio.

_“Make me proud, kid.”_

A defiant smile blossoms on Fareeha’s lips.

When Fareeha decided to become a hero, her goal is to save as many people as she can. But deep inside, she knows that her ultimate goal is to make her mother proud.

It’s her reason to live, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
